Sherlock and the Doctors
by blueruinelf
Summary: A light crossover featuring the awesomeness of two Steven Moffat-penned series. Sherlock Holmes has grown bored without a new case to solve. When a blue box and three mysterious passengers land on his doorstep, his work will be cut out for him.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Nighttime Noises

Sherlock Holmes strummed a few notes on his violin. Or at least, Watson thought they were supposed to be notes. The more accurate term was "noises." Yes, he was making "noises" with his violin. And it was four in the morning. Watson rolled out of bed and instinctively went for his cane, before remembering that his limp had mysteriously gone within the first days of his moving in with Holmes. Watson snorted. Psychosomatic, my arse. Holmes' brother Mycroft was right. He had missed the danger, the violence the war that came along with the fight for justice. That limp was real. It just needed the right medication. Which happened to be tracking down cab-driving serial killers with the world's only consulting detective. Who also happened to play the violin. All the time.

Watson rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stumbled into the living room. The tall, thin man with the unruly hair didn't stop playing; in fact, the noises only grew more manic and, of possible, more out of tune.

"Holmes, you do know it's four in the morning."

"My dear Watson, you do know that I told you I think best during the times that no one else is. Keeps the atmosphere unclogged with useless thoughts. You are currently clogging up my atmosphere."

"I wouldn't be if I could sleep. And with you making music out here, that's pretty much impossible."

"Well, without my music it's impossible for me to think."

"You just said you needed the atmosphere unclogged."

"I do."

"Well, doesn't your music clog it up quite a bit? Don't those loud, scraping sounds clog your mind like dirty hairballs in a drain? Because that's what they do to me."

The two were on their way to bickering like an old married couple, which wasn't unusual for them despite only being in the early days of their flat-sharing. Their landlady, Mrs. Hudson, would often come upstairs to find Watson peeling nicotine patches off of a resistant Holmes with much eye-rolling and medical advice, or Holmes attempting experiments on Watson's cell phone much to the Doctor's chagrin. However, this time they were not interrupted by Mrs. Hudson, but rather, by a strange, whooshing sound. It was such an unusual sound that Holmes couldn't help but throw down his violin and rush to the window. Watson subtly kicked the violin behind the sofa before joining him in pressing his face against the glass. Holmes turned to him.

"Doctor, what do you think is happening?"

Watson looked at his flat-mate, mouth agape, before staring back out the window into the still-dark morning.

Meanwhile, miles above London, a blue box hurtled through the atmosphere towards Earth. A tall, thin man with unruly hair lived here too. However, this one's name was…well, no one really knew his name. Most people called him the Doctor. Like the pretty redheaded girl who fell on top of the control panel and held on for dear life, pale knuckles growing even whiter.

"Doctor, what do you think is happening?"

As if on cue, the three people aboard were rocked around even more violently. The one called the Doctor crowed "Geronimo!" with joyous laughter, glorying in the roller-coaster ride he had grown to love over the course of nine hundred years. The other two were still growing used to the raucous ride. One ducked away, hand over his mouth.

"Rory, what's wrong now?"

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Oh, you big baby!"

"Now, Amy, be nice to your husband."

"Hey, now, Doctor, I don't need your protection. I just need some Dramamine."

Suddenly, the TARDIS—for that was indeed the name of the little blue box, an acronym for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space—came to a rattle, a whoosh, and a jarring halt. The young man who was about to be sick sank to the ground gratefully and massaged his stomach. He swallowed deeply and cringed. His name was Rory Williams.

"Thank goodness for that."

The leggy, sassy redhead who was Rory's wife, Amy Pond, sank to the ground next to him and squeezed his shoulders affectionately. "You'll get used to it," she whispered with a grin. She then addressed the third person in the room.

"Doctor, where are we?"

The Doctor turned around slowly. He had been examining the control panel of the TARDIS and had discovered something intriguing. "We've been summoned here. A feeble little distress signal. Someone needs our help."

He bounded away, his unfathomable age seemingly not affecting his bottomless source of energy. Then again, who wouldn't be filled with childlike wonder nearly every moment of their life if they were able to travel through time and space, from one end of the galaxy to another, from the beginning of time to the very end? His nonstop travel and encounters with danger had kept the Doctor young in spirit, even though inside he was also as wise as befits his age.

The Doctor threw open the door and squinted into the gloom of dim yellow streetlamps. The stars twinkled faintly above them despite the smoke and gloom that naturally rose from the city. Amy stuck her head out of the TARDIS as well and peered around his shoulder. Rory fought for his own bit of space in the doorway, but as usual, found it difficult to compete with the dominant personalities of his wife and the Doctor. Nevertheless, despite his relative lack of travel experience, he was able to identify the street before them.

"Are we…in London? Twenty-first century London? On Earth?"

The blue box had landed…on the pavement in front of 221B Baker Street.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Doctors Meet…and Sherlock's There, Too

The Doctor stepped out onto the pavement and began to pace around, his nose twitching manically as though sniffing the air for something suspicious. However, apart from the usual smoky cigarette smell that perpetually infected the air of London, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. Rory and Amy stood on the corner under a streetlamp, wondering what could possibly have drawn them to this point in time and space. Finally, Rory spoke up in a tentative tone.

"Do you think you made a mistake, Doctor?"

The Doctor turned abruptly on his heel. "Preposterous. I never make mistakes. The TARDIS, she never EVER makes mistakes. If she brought us here, it was for a very good reason…I just can't put my finger on it QUITE yet…"

He waved the sonic in the air with a flourish and examined it. "There's an unnatural amount of electric current in the air round this spot, but that could just be something with a lot of fancy computer equipment."

Amy snorted. "You mean the TARDIS brought us here to investigate some computer hacker? Hardly an emergency of time and space, you think?"

"Maybe someone was getting mugged. We ARE on the streets of London at 4:30 in the morning," Rory offered, as he eyed the shadowy corners of the street with the kind of unnecessary paranoia that plagues all country folk when they arrive in the big city.

Amy shivered slightly in the cool early morning air. The sun was still hovering below the horizon. Rory put his arms around her to keep her warm (and also, he thought, to guard her from muggers), and while Amy would usually balk at such a protective gesture, she welcomed it for the time being.

The Doctor put the sonic away and snapped his head up. "Right, I think we made a mistake. Come on, let's go."

Amy rolled her eyes as the door to the TARDIS opened. Just as they went to enter, however, the silent night was broken by an all too familiar, all too terrifying sound—that of whirring gears and creaking metal limbs, and a robotic voice, cold as steel:

"UPGRADE OR BE DELETED."

The trio of time travelers turned in almost exaggerated slow motion, not wanting to confirm their worse fears. However, no amount of wishing or pretending could hide the fact that a shiny silver Cyberman had just emerged from around the corner and was heading straight for them with all the precision of a highly trained soldier and a high-tech machine rolled into one.

"Doctor, is that what I think it is?" Rory's voice rose slightly in volume and in octave, as he instinctively reached for Amy again. The last time he had encountered a Cyberman he himself had been an Auton, armed with a plastic shell and a hand that conveniently turned into a deadly weapon (though this was inconvenient when it came to embracing one's loved ones…Rory shuddered to remember that earth-shatteringly awful moment of what seemed like, no, what actually was another life). Now, he was just plain Rory Williams, the nurse from Leadworth, and he had no idea what to do to defend his wife from the murderous robot before them.

The Doctor's eyes were so wide that they appeared to be completely round, solid black pupils. "Right, Amy, Rory, get inside the TARDIS. Now."

"Nonsense," Amy said. "Nonsense? Not nonsense, logic," Rory said, tugging on Amy's arm. "We only just got married. I'm not ready to be a widower."

"And I'm not ready to be a widow, Mr. Pond!" Amy snapped. Rory twitched at the appropriation of her last name rather than his. She continued. "If you're going to stay with the Doctor, then I obviously am too."

The Cyberman, meanwhile, kept lurching forward. 'UPGRADE OR BE DELETED," it intoned. "Doctor, do you have a plan?" Amy said, stepping forward. However, she lost her footing in the dark and slipped on a puddle in her high-heeled boots. Arms pinwheeling wildly, Amy Pond found herself rocketing forward into the path of the Cyberman, knees crashing into the pavement.

"AMY!" Rory yelled. He made a move to charge forward just as Amy, down on all fours as though she was voluntarily submitting to the menace before her, closed her eyes and prepared for the worse. Yet instead of the sound of a Cyberman's laser, the night was cut through by a sharp gunshot. Amy opened her eyes. Rory froze in mid-step.

The Cyberman's head was smoking. In the back of his head was a neat round bullet hole, put their by a small pistol currently clenched in the fist of a stocky, gingery bloke in a dressing gown, with narrowed eyes and thin lips. He held that weapon with the resolve of someone who had fired one many times before. Behind him, leaning against the doorpost with nonchalance quite inappropriate to the situation, was a tall skinny man with a mess of dark hair. A large scarf was swathed around his neck. He stepped forward and began to examine the Cyberman. The shorter man kept pointing his gun at Amy, Rory, and the Doctor, which was something the latter did not appreciate.

"There's no need for weapons here, sir, please get it out of my face."

The man did not acquiesce to his request. "I'd say you're wrong, my friend."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. "I'm never wrong. And I'm not your friend. I'm the Doctor."

"That's funny, because so am I."

The Doctor made a face. "What? No you're not. I'm the Doctor. The oncoming storm and all that…usual rubbish. Who are you?"

The taller man stood up from poking at the Cyberman and addressed the Doctor in an impatient tone. "He is the Doctor John H. Watson. And he's used a gun like that many times before, in a little place called Afghanistan. Heard of it?"

For the first time in his nine hundred or so years, the Doctor was speechless. The tall man continued his speech, approaching them slowly as he spoke.

"Now, we hear a strange sound outside at a little past four in the morning, We come out to investigate and we find the three of you, an old police box the likes of which haven't been seen round here since the Sixties, and this…robot man. This can't all be coincidence. And yet…I don't know. I may be a master of deduction, but something here has me thrown for a loop."

Watson laughed sardonically. "Did I just hear what I think I heard? Sherlock Holmes, confused?"

Rory's jaw dropped. "Sherlock Holmes! The famous consulting detective!"

Amy turned to him. "What? You've actually heard of this man?"

"Well, yeah, he's got a website and everything. The Science of Deduction. It's quite clever actually, Doctor, I think you'd like it—"

The Doctor pressed a finger to Rory's lips. Rory instinctively obliged and shut up. The Doctor looked into the eyes of Sherlock Holmes.

"Consulting detective. What does that entail, exactly?"

Holmes responded casually, "When the police down at Scotland Yard cannot tell which end of a case is up, I come in and sort it all out. It's more often than you'd care to imagine."

"Oh trust me, I can imagine it. Human police? They're quite rubbish mostly. Always waving around weapons and yelling…" He shot a dirty look at Watson with this last statement, which didn't upset the good doctor in the slightest. "Who's this one, then?"

"I'm Dr. John Watson. Didn't you hear him the first time?"

"Yes but I mean, what are you to him? Why are you here?"

Watson's face took on a look of mild insult. "I'm his colleague…and flat-mate."

Amy raised one eyebrow and pursed her lips cheekily. Watson could tell what she was thinking, but he didn't have the energy to argue. He was out in the street at 4:30am shooting robots. It was like some terrible video game gone wrong.

Rory took this moment to pipe up. "I read about your dealings with the cab driver and the suicide pills. A Study in Pink? Brilliant." The Doctor looked at Rory and took in the obvious admiration he had for this strange man. He looked back at Holmes only to find that he had pried the face off of the Cyberman and was staring into the metal skull at the human brain within. The Doctor rushed forward and clapped the face back on with a clank.

"I think we have a lot to discuss. And I'd rather do it inside, over a cup of tea, than on the streets of London at dawn. What do you say?"

Holmes and Watson exchanged glances.

"Fine. But we're bringing this one in with us."

Holmes nudged the Cyberman with his foot.

The Doctor nodded. "Fine. Rory!"

Rory groaned. "Is that all I'm good for around here? A set of arms?"

He attempted to lift one end of the Cyberman and nearly threw out his back. Watson, on the other hand, managed his end quite easily. Rory tried to hide the immense strain the task caused him as he shuffled inside while Holmes held the door. He looked up and whinged under his breath, "Oh, there are stairs. Brilliant," before he disappeared inside. Next came Amy, who flounced in after him with only a sidelong glance at their host.

Last came the Doctor. He peered into the face of Holmes, leaning uncomfortably close. This habit of his was one of his most particularly alien and would cause most people to instinctively lean back, wary at the Time Lord's inability to notice—or at least care—that he was invading their personal space. However, Holmes merely stared coolly back and maintained eye contact, trying to deduce who the stranger was and why there was a police box on his doorstep.

The staring contest lasted for several seconds before the Doctor grew uncomfortable and drew away, feeling uneasy in his stomach as he entered the house. Not frightened uneasy, but the kind of uneasy one feels when they are dealing with someone whose level of intellect is clearly sky-high. This was something the Doctor didn't really expect from his dealings with humanity. Endless compassion, why yes, endless stupidity, sometimes, endless bravery, most definitely, but endless cleverness? On that note, the Doctor ventured into 221B Baker Street, nearly tripping on the stairs as he mulled this over in his mind.

Holmes looked up. The stars were hidden in the smoke and fog of the city, yet Holmes felt drawn to them nonetheless. Somehow, the heavens were connected to the newest mystery that had conveniently plopped right on his doorstep...as though the visitors had dropped from the sky itself. Yet that was ridiculous, and Holmes knew it. Every case, no matter how supernatural it may be, always had a logical explanation, and he was determined to find this one. He grinned to himself. At this rate he might not even need to leave Baker Street to solve it.

With that he closed the door behind him, so satisfied with his current situation that he failed to notice the man watching them in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: A Cup of Tea Solves Everything…Not Really

Ten minutes later, Amy was slouched in an armchair inside the flat that was shared by Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, holding a cup of tea that was entirely too strong and tasted something like old roots, a taste that no amount of milk and sugar could smooth over. Rory was next to her, stirring his cup in anticipation and jiggling his foot like an excited schoolboy. Amy knew that he had done a great deal of research in supernatural phenomenon and other mysteries after his first encounter with the Doctor, when Prisoner Zero wrecked havoc upon Leadworth. While it seemed that Holmes didn't care much for the fantastical, Amy assumed that his website, The Science of Deduction, must have come up in his research and had apparently given him a sort of fanboy ardor for the detective.

The detective himself, however, didn't seem to notice Rory's slight infatuation, and was sticking his nose in the way of the two Doctors, who were performing a sort of makeshift at-home autopsy on the Cyberman. Sherlock sniffed the air slightly. The Doctor noticed this version of one of his own habits and appeared disgruntled, as though someone was stealing his patented tricks. Holmes spoke up.

"I'm assuming that is some sort of computer designed to look like a human brain…despite the realistic smell."

"Sherlock, I'm afraid I have the unpleasant task of informing you that you are wrong," Dr. Watson said with a smug smile.

'Wrong? I'm never wrong. Just occasionally misled onto a wrong path. But I always find my way back again."

"How does that sound familiar?" Amy muttered to Rory. However, he wasn't listening. Instead he blurted out. "The Doctor's right. Cybermen have real human brains."

Holmes whirled around at him. "Impossible! How can a robot be wired up to a human brain! One is man and the other is machine! They are incompatible! Besides, where would they even get the brain?"

Rory's face reddened. He mumbled a few incoherent replies, quickly realized he wasn't going to impress his hero anytime soon, and became silent. Sherlock paused, realized he wasn't going to get an answer, and continued, speaking this time to his friend. "John, there haven't been any morgue or graveyard robberies lately, have there?"

"I believe this is an instance of you heading down the wrong path, Mr. Holmes," the other Doctor said with a smile. "You see, Cybermen can only use live human brains. They rewire the living brains to serve their own purpose, hence that lovely slogan of theirs."

"Upgrade or be deleted," repeated Watson slowly. While he seemed to be buying into their explanation of this conundrum, Holmes remained unconvinced. The Doctor continued.

"You're a consulting detective. Have you been…consulted….about any missing persons cases recently?"

"No. It's been dreadfully boring around here, I can tell you."

"There aren't any missing people, right now, in the whole of London?" asked Amy skeptically.

"Oh, there are. But they're simply too easy to find." Sherlock rifled through a week's worth of old newspapers that littered the table in the kitchen, knocking some biscuits to the floor as he went. He grabbed a paper with some notes and read them off.

"Mr. Roscoe Gherkin wasn't kidnapped, he ran away with the pool boy. And who wouldn't, if you'd seen that wife of his…face like a newt. Let's see..." he bit his lip and scanned won the papers. "Lady Christina de Souza disappeared around the same time as the Grand Emerald of the Nile from the British Museum, so I can guarantee those are connected, and probably not any more foul play other than her being bored, which I can identify with…"

The Doctor nodded in recognition. 'Sounds about right," he murmured with a smile. Holmes threw down the paper.

"And 16-year-old Lisa Donovan's boyfriend got her pregnant, so she went away to get an out-of-town termination. I haven't told her mother, because I know she'll be coming back eventually. That's all! And anyways, I remain unconvinced that this is what you say it is, and that you are what you say you are!"

The Doctor smiled. "Oh really? What can you deduce from my appearance?"

"Well, you clearly do not care what other people think of you, or you wouldn't wear that ridiculous jacket and bow tie—"

"Hey, now, bow ties are cool."

Watson looked up. "Since when do you keep up with fashion trends? You don't even know the names of all the planets."

The Doctor interrupted again. "No one knows the names of all the planets. Even I don't. There are at least five million of them."

Holmes and Watson looked at each other. "What do you know, Sherlock? Evidence they're from another planet right there."

"Well, I'm from another planet. These two are from Earth." The Doctor jerked his head towards Amy and Rory. Rory raised his hand in greeting, but quickly and awkwardly lowered it.

Sherlock pondered. "Well, that would explain the clothes. Either that or that you came here from another time, which is equally preposterous, but would explain the police box, which appears quite fresh and new despite the fact that that style stopped being used around 1997."

"No, I travel through both time and space."

"No, you do not."

"Yes, I do. The police box, that's my ship. She can…heal herself, in a way. That's why she looks younger than her age. Like me."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "How old are you?"

"Nine hundred and seven."

The room was eerily quiet. Holmes broke the silence. "Show me."

"What?"

"I don't believe the evidence you've given me thus far. So show me."

There was another long pause where the two men analyzed each other. Amy was growing impatient and bored and sick of pretending to drink bad tea. She blurted out:

"Since when are you so shy to show off, Doctor? Take him inside the stupid TARDIS so we can start making some progress with this Cyberman stuff! Peoples brains are being…upgraded!"

With that cue the Doctor grabbed Sherlock Holmes by the arm and dragged him out the door, though not before sticking his head back in to correct Amy: "The correct term is actually cyberconversion." Then the door slammed behind them, leaving Watson alone with the mysterious other Doctor's companions. Unlike his companion, he didn't seem to find their story that far-fetched.

"I've always told him discounting the solar system was a bad idea. The stars hold the key to a lot of secrets."

"So you don't think the fact that he's an alien is a bit…odd?" Amy said.

"Well, it's definitely odd, but I've seen weirder living with that one. How'd you guys meet up with your Doctor, anyhow?"

"It's a long story," Rory said.

Outside, the sun was just starting to come up over London, but the warm reddish glow that fell over the city and seemed to light the entire metropolis on fire went unnoticed by the Doctor and Holmes. With a snap of the fingers, the TARDIS doors opened. Holmes looked at the Doctor. "It's one of those old "clap on, clap off" devices, eh?"

The Doctor smiled serenely and gestured with one hand. "After you, sir."

Holmes hesitated for only a moment before walking inside. He hadn't been afraid of death when it stared him in the face in the form of Jeff the cab driver, the Chinese smugglers, or even Moriarty, though the latter's name still sent a shiver down his spine. Why should a mad man with a box been any worse?

Upon entering the TARDIS Holmes had to blink several times to adjust to the heavenly golden light and the arched, expansive ceilings. He was speechless. This was something he could not deduce—how the hell was this bloody blue box so much bigger on the inside? He opened his mouth to ask, then snapped it shut again. What came out of his mouth next was this:

"Well, that's all fine and well, but where are we going?"

"You don't want to know why it's bigger on the inside?"

"I'll come to my own conclusions."

The Doctor giddily bounced over to the controls and threw back a couple of switches. The ship rocked suddenly backwards, sending Holmes flying across the room. The Doctor, of course, knew better and had a tight grip on the central console as the ship rocketed off into the time vortex. Holmes stumbled up and over to the Doctor, nearly slipping again and regaining his hold on the Doctor's tweed sleeve. Their eyes met awkwardly, before Holmes spat out, "What's happening?"

"We're traveling back in time, Sherlock! To the year 1859!"

"WHAT?"

The ship whirred and whooshed in an almost frightening way, as though it were about o crash—but in merely screeched to a stop. Holmes was panting. The Doctor, however, was blissfully calm. He snapped his fingers and the door opened again.

"Let's make this quick, now. We can't leave contemporary London all on its own for to long or it will self-destruct."

"Too true," Holmes agreed, before stepping outside.

The first thing he noticed was that it was sunny, and snowing. Considering that when he left it was nighttime and dry, this was odd. However, what was more odd was the horse-drawn carriage that was flying down the cobblestone street towards him. The man behind the wheel, in a top hat, roared at him, "Get out of the way fool!"

The Doctor grabbed Holmes and dove with him into a snowbank. After spitting out a mouthful of snow dirty from coal and muddy boots, Holmes sputtered, "Why 1859?"

The Doctor stood up, brushed snow from his coat, and gesticulated around him. "1859…um…pretty good year, relatively nondescript though, all things considered. Dickens published A Tale of Two Cities in the spring—love him! Darwin published the Origin of the Species this year too. Let's see, what else—the chimes of Big Ben rang for the first time in London—"

On cue, the bells chimed loud and strong, signaling that it was three in the afternoon. The Doctor's face bloomed into a cheerful smile. "There they are! Oh, and the author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was born."

"Who?" Holmes asked.

"Never mind," said the Doctor. "1859 is the year…oh, but you'll probably be wanting an eyewitness to tell you all this, though won't you?"

He reached out a grabbed an elderly woman meandering down the street with her groceries in a wicker basket. "Ma'am, can I help you with those?" "Certainly, young man," she warbled, as the Doctor snatched the basket out of her hands. He nodded to Holmes, and each grabbed her under the crook of an elbow, lifted her up off the ground, and speedily began carrying her down the street. "Oh my! Aren't you quite the gentlemen!" she squeaked. "Where do you need to go?" The Doctor asked. "223 Baker Street," she replied. Holmes' eyes widened. He looked up at the old, ornate street sign attached to the brick front of a house – BAKER STREET, CITY OF WESTMINSTER, NW1.

They plopped the little old lady down in the snow in front of 223. Holmes looked at the house next door. It was most definitely his, just over a hundred years in the past and thus newer. "There you go!" said the Doctor, brushing off his hands. "Oh, and by the way, could you give me the date?"

"The date?" the woman said, confused. "Why, it's December 18th, 1859."

With that the Doctor grabbed Holmes, before he could ask any more questions, and dragged him away. In a moment they were back at the TARDIS, and with a flick of a switch, back to the future.

As the TARDIS whirred to a stop on modern-day Baker Street, with the sun still struggling to rise over the rooftops, Holmes was silent. The Doctor waited for him to say something—anything!—but the young man was too busy contemplating what he had seen. He was lost deep within the labyrinth of his brilliant mind. No one could deny the facts that had been placed before him. There was literally no other explanation as to why an old-fashioned police box could be bigger on the inside and be a ship capable of taking them to another time. He walked inside with the Doctor closely following.

To the three people left in the flat, it was as though they had only been gone for about a minute. They all looked eagerly at Holmes, waiting with baited breath to see what he would say. He took a deep breath. His response was thus:

"When the paper comes this morning, John, comb it for missing persons. Someone is stealing brains. And we need to figure out who. And why."

Watson, the Doctor, Rory, and Amy all smiled with the instinctual joy that comes from being set upon a new adventure. The collaboration of the two cleverest individuals in all of time and space had begun.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Marie Devine is Missing

Holmes was basking in the aura of his nicotine patches while Watson scanned the front page. He looked up and addressed Holmes wryly. "_Four_ patches, Sherlock? There is such thing as a _four_ patch problem?"

"There is now," Holmes intoned, looking over at the Doctor, who had whipped out the sonic screwdriver and was scanning over the Cyberman with Amy and Rory at his side. "It's an older model," he said, "More advanced than the ones you two saw before. Just the brain, rather than the whole skull. And—"

He cut through the metal of the Cyberman's arm with a whirr and a flash. Holding it aloft, he examined it further. "It doesn't have limbs capable of self-operating once detached from the body and brain. Which means that either someone has been at this for quite awhile and is lacking the technology—"

"Or someone came from the past with this design and began working. A criminal from the past. What fun." Holmes finished his sentence.

"Couldn't it just the Cybermen working on their own?" Amy asked. "No, they'd need some sort of cover individual, or corporation, a benefactor of some kind. A bunch of robots stealing brains in London? Someone would have noticed by now," dismissed the Doctor.

"If it's a criminal from the past, with enough power and money to begin assembling Cybermen in London, could it be someone you've met before, Doctor?" Rory ventured. Sherlock sat up straight. "Excellent point, Robert!" "Rory," he embarrassedly corrected him. "Rory!" the Doctor echoed after them both, patting the young man affectionately on the head. "But who? And what could they possibly be trying to achieve?"

"Oh, I don't know, world domination, dominion over all human beings, the usual?" Amy offered. Just then Watson tore a page from the newspaper and thrust it under Holmes' nose. Holmes snatched it out of his hands. Watson took the opportunity to tear a nicotine patch off of his arm. Holmes didn't even notice, so engrossed he was in the news at hand.

"Marie Devine. Executive assistant at Carfax Industries. Called her husband to say she was working late and never came home. Carfax Industries is a computer software company."

"Oh, that seems too easy!" The Doctor exclaimed. "Agreed," Sherlock noted, before continuing. "Except they aren't based in London, they're based in Manchester."

"Oh God, Please don't make me go to Manchester! All the dirt and whiny music makes me feel ill." Amy groaned. "You've never even been to Manchester…have you?" Rory pointed out. "No, but I've heard enough Smiths songs to know I wouldn't like it." "Fair enough," Rory concurred, before asking, "Then why's this missing woman being featured in the London papers?"

"Because the CEO is in town to be the opening speaker and featured guest at a huge technology expo." Watson said, throwing down another section of the paper. The grinning face of the Carfax Industries CEO, Jackson Carfax, loomed out at them. He was rather young for a CEO and had crystal-clear blue eyes and the kind of cheekbones that could cut and a ruthless smile that said they probably would if it meant he would get further ahead in business. Even in the newspaper photo, his suit was obviously expensive and of a flattering cut. "Ooh, he's cute," Amy cooed. "I don't like him," Rory sniffed in response.

"He's the guest of honor at this big computer and information technology event down at Hyde Park," Watson continued. "It's supposed to be the biggest exhibition of new technology in Britain since Victoria and Albert's Great Exhibition. Carfax is here promoting some kind of new Bluetooth device that can download information straight to your head or something."

The Doctor jumped up. "Oh no oh no oh no…Bluetooth devices? That fit into your ear?"

"That's the standard function of a Bluetooth device, yes," Holmes said.

"Cybermen can convert humans into their minions by rewiring their brains through nondescript little earpieces. They look like Bluetooth devices, but they essentially turn the wearing into a zombie of sorts. Comatose walkers with no personality, no memory, no thoughts or actions of their own…only the will of the Cybermen driving them on."

"Ingenious," Holmes gasped. "We MUST go to that expo."

"Fortunately for us, we have two tickets," Watson said, holding up an envelope. The Doctor snatched it out of his hands and pulled them out. Holmes raised his eyebrows. "Where did you get those, John?" "They wanted us to attend as guests, to raise profile…because your site and my blog seem to have captured the public's imagination."

"Too true," Holmes mused, a slight shiver going down his spine remembering how dangerous his last encounter with someone fascinated by his online exploits had been. He turned back to Watson, disguising his discomfort with energy and accusations. "Why didn't you inform me of this?" "I did, but you were too busy trying to detangle your reputation from that Irene Adler nonsense," Watson said with a snigger.

"Well, now I'm not. What time does it start?"

"Opening ceremonies are underway in approximately…oh, nine minutes."

"Nine minutes! We have no time to waste then!"

"You're forgetting one thing," the Doctor said with a smile. "I have a TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimensions in Space, to be precise. I can get us there in under a minute, with time to get coffee beforehand." "Yes, coffee please," Rory mumbled, his head drooping onto Amy's shoulder. The excitement of meeting a minor hero and internet celebrity had worn off with the detective's inability to remember his name; now the fact that he hadn't slept all night was beginning to take it's toll. Amy shrugged her shoulder in annoyance, forcing his head reluctantly upwards.

"But we only have two tickets," Watson pointed out. "No," said the Doctor, pulling out the psychic paper and flashing it before his eyes. "We have a VIP pass for the Doctor and his two guests, who all happen to be experts on…"

"Does that say advanced nuclear-cyber-kinetic fusion technology…and cheese?" said Holmes. The Doctor snapped the paper shut. "It might…if that's what you want it to say. Psychic paper. Convinces you that it is whatever you'd most want it to be, and we are whoever it says we are."

Holmes was more intrigued by the visitor from space than ever. Something like psychic paper would be endlessly beneficial in his line of work. "How does that work? Is it electronic? Does it download stuff from an online profile? Do you have any extra?"

"Um…it's a lot of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey…anyways, to the TARDIS!"

About a half an hour later Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door of the flat and heard no response. "Sherlock? John? I brought you some milk and eggs from the store, despite the fact that I am in fact not your housekeeper, just a landlady who worries you don't eat healthy enough," she called. Upon still not hearing a sound, she pulled out her key and let herself in.

The site before her was a messy, masculine cave of a room with newspapers, teacups, and nicotine patch wrappers scattered everywhere. While she sighed and rolled her eyes at the discord, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. What was strange, even for her two remarkable tenants, was the silver man-sized-and-shaped construct lying across the table.

Mrs. Hudson walked over to investigate Holmes and Watson's latest discovery, figuring it could do no harm. However, what she saw caused her to scream and drop the groceries to the floor, eggs and milk splattering everywhere. She knew Watson was a Doctor, but that was no reason for them to keep brains in the flat. Brains! She ran out and slammed the door behind her, pressing her back against it and breathing heavily as though that would keep the robot man at bay. When she had recovered enough to walk down the stairs without getting vertigo, she quickly left, reminding herself to have a word with the boys later about the difference between home and workplace. If they didn't learn how to make certain distinctions between the two, their sanity was going to dissipate even more quickly than it already was.

As Mrs. Hudson was buying those ill-fated groceries, and the TARDIS was whizzing off into the vortex of time and space with the quintet of adventurers inside, the Kensington Expo was getting ready to cut the ribbon on it's first annual convention honoring the latest in technological advances around the globe. It was being held in Hyde Park, in a beautiful new glass structure, designed particularly for the occasion to be a modern descendant of the Crystal Palace held for Victoria and Albert's Great Exhibition in 1851. That event was planned in order to exhibit some of the most extraordinary technological leaps of the Industrial Revolution; this one planned to do the same for the twenty-first century. It was a chic, modern building constructed entirely of glass panels and iron framing, lit with only the purest, most incandescent white light. This combined with the endless amounts of computer, electronic, and weapons technology inside made the entire complex seem like a futuristic, fairy-tale palace from space. And the guest of honor was Jackson Carfax of Carfax Industries, who was currently primping in a dressing room in a separate building—not made of glass—before he gave his keynote speech. He fluffed his shiny dark hair and pouted in the mirror. "Product!" he called out with a haughty sniff.

A Cyberman came up behind him with a bottle of hair gel and squirted some onto his hair. A little too much—a great big blob dripped into his eyes, which began to blink rapidly and burn! "Ah! You got it in my eye, you great hunk of junk! I ought to scrap you—"

The Cyberman held up a hand and blasted his mirror with a bolt of electricity. It cracked down the middle with a loud metallic snapping sound, sparks flying. Jackson Carfax gulped nervously. "I should never have let you convert Marie. She was best for this sort of thing. She knew exactly how much product stood between the slick business look and that of the greasy, untrustworthy salesman."

"She knew too much. She stood between the Cybermen and success. She had to go." The Cyberman intoned. "I know, I know…and once we introduce these earpieces of yours to the general public, there won't be anything else that stands in our way either," Jackson said with a swish of his hair and a spray of obscenely expensive cologne. For all the money he had spent it ought to have smelled better. He sniffed and turned to the Cyberman. "Too much?" he said. The silence and the overpowering smell of the cologne both lingered in the air as the Cyberman blankly stared at him. Finally it responded.

"Smell is not a sense necessary to the Cyberman. It has been deleted." Then it walked away and closed the door, legs creaking as it went. Jackson looked at his reflection, now doubled and eerily deformed in the cracked mirror. Equal parts scientific genius and flamboyant showman, with a mind that understood technology better than human people, he was the perfect tool for the Cybermen. Problem is, he wasn't yet aware that was what he was—merely a tool. He basked in the excitement of hearing voices grow louder and louder outside, before an event coordinator knocked on the door.

'Enter," he crowed. The coordinator, a brunette woman named Mary with horn-rimmed glasses and a messy, unraveling bun, threw open the door. One look at her face clearly broadcast the news that she was not in the mood to deal with any prima donna behavior.

"It's time," was all she said.

Jackson picked up his blazer from the chair and slipped it on. Perfectly tailored bottle green with black pinstripes, it was the ideal choice for a man who valued both fashion and function. Buttoning it up and taking one last indulgent glance at himself in the broken mirror, he followed her out into the flashbulbs and chaos.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: The Kensington Expo

Amy Pond had seen a lot of bizarre and even beautiful things in her travels with the Doctor—17th-century Venice, Van Gogh's art in the Musee d'Orsay, even Space Florida! Yet the New Crystal Palace still took her breath away, glittering like diamond and silver in the morning sunlight. Rory was less taken aback, but that was probably because he hadn't finished his coffee yet.

If there were two people who didn't need caffeine to be buzzing about the situation at hand, they were Sherlock and the Doctor. They were both tall enough to see over many of the heads of the crowd of onlookers they had embedded themselves in the thick of, yet both were bouncing on their toes attempting to get an even better look at the scene. Sherlock turned to Watson, who was sipping his coffee rather calmly all things considered.

"John, did you bring your revolver?" he asked. Watson appeared nonplussed, as he replied, "No."

"No? No! Why?" Sherlock demanded.

"All the security here? The metal detectors? Are you crazy? Oh, wait, I know the answer to that question, don't I?" Watson retorted.

"We aren't going to need any more guns today," the Doctor announced.

"Well, yeah, we have your little tool. What is it called?" Holmes asked.

"Sonic screwdriver," he pulled it out of his pocket and gave it a whirr. "Won't look out of place at all amongst the gizmos and gadgets being shown off here. Will be nice to not have to hide it for a change."

"Oh, as though being inconspicuous was ever one of your strong suits," Amy said.

"Right. Does it have any properties as a weapon?" Holmes demanded. "It has many useful properties," the Doctor replied vaguely. Holmes looked satisfied for the time being. However, at that moment they were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Sherlock Holmes. I would say nice to see you, but if you dared to venture out of Baker Street to come here, it must mean my job is going to be even harder today, and that's not very nice at all," Detective Inspector Lestrade said dryly.

"Nice to see you too, Lestrade. What, did they demote you to security for this illustrious event?" Sherlock cocked an eyebrow.

"In a way. Plus, back in Manchester there is a missing person's case—"

'Marie Devine."

"Yes. Dammit, I knew you were here for a reason. They want us to question Carfax and his people. Turns out, she was his personal assistant."

"Cyberconverting his personal assistant right before a big event like this? That's risky, even if she was asking questions, which I'm sure was the reason," The Doctor exclaimed. Noticing Lestrade's confused face, he held out his hand and shook it up and down voraciously. "Hello, there. I'm the Doctor."

Lestrade raised his eyebrows. "Another medical colleague? Christ, you must be expecting hellfire. Should I be worried?"

The Doctor put his hands on Lestrade's shoulders, slightly starting him with his sudden familiarity. "Yes, you should be. Very worried. You're the police, then?"

Lestrade held up his badge. "Detective Inspector Lestrade, at your service."

"Just keep an eye on Carfax and those earpieces of his. Whatever you do, don't put one in," the Doctor warned.

Lestrade looked startled. "Those earpieces are being included in the VIP gift bags for all the CEOs and government figures attending today. So I won't have one. But they all will. And I'm sure they're not going to be able to wait to try them out."

Sherlock and the Doctor made eye contact.

"We need to steal those bags!" they exclaimed together. Watson rolled his eyes. "Blimey, this is getting more and more ridiculous," he mumbled, before finishing his coffee and tossing the cup into a bin. Amy jumped in.

"Right. Where do we start?"

"Well, since the Doctor is the closest thing to arms, he should go find those bags and whoever will be distributing them. John, you can go as his back up. Meanwhile, I'll stay here with you two and keep an eye on Carfax. We'll need all the eyes and ears on him as we can," Holmes announced

Rory became instantly more animated at the realization that he would be personally assisting Sherlock Holmes on a case. He accidentally spilt hot coffee on himself and yelped, attempting to wipe the coffee off subtly without anyone noticing.

"Right, well, just make sure—"

"Lestrade, did I consult you for advice? I think not. That's your job. You pester me. Now hurry off and…secure things."

"Right," Lestrade huffed. "Only, can I see some credentials for your other Doctor friend, here?"

"Here you go!" the Doctor said, flashing the psychic paper at him. "Doctorate in criminology and medical sciences, with a certification in…why does that say cheese again? Either it's broken or I'm really hungry." He paused for a moment, then decided. "I'm really hungry."

"Well, I'm sure there's food backstage. Let's go!" And with that, Watson and the Doctor ran off through the crowd. Amy looked disappointed at being left behind, but Rory was elated. He rubbed his hands together and looked at Sherlock. "So, what're we doing again?"

"Carfax will be giving his speech any second. We see what he has to say, then apprehend and question him afterwards. Lestrade, you might actually come in handy for that bit," Holmes coolly replied.

"Thanks Sherlock, but I'm busy, what did you say? Ah, yes—securing things," Lestrade grumpily said, before he too disappeared into the crowd. Just as he vanished from sight, a roar of cheers and applause rose up from the crowd, as Jackson Carfax appeared, being led by Mary the coordinator. He stepped up to the shimmering glass podium and flashing one of those million—or more accurately, billion—dollar smiles. The camera flashes bounced off the glass, turning the entire area into a sparkling, shining diamond. Holmes, Amy, and Rory all instinctively moved forward through the crowd until they were at the front lines with the rest of the paparazzi.

Holmes subtly moved his hand into his pocket and turned on the recording function on his phone—having his words ready and handy would probably come in handy when analyzing Carfax's motives, especially figuring out who had set him up. For Holmes knew that someone like Carfax didn't have designs on converting all of humanity to emotionless robots unless he was being paid very good money to do so, and he was sure the Cybermen themselves didn't have a platinum savings account at Barclay's. Someone had united with the Cybermen to use the Carfax name and reputation to destroy humanity, and to convert all of the world's biggest and richest technological geniuses at the expo. With those minds and incomes at their disposal, truly nothing would stand in their way. He wondered if Rory's theory about a person from the past was true. Then he began to question it—perhaps the invisible man was not a previous enemy of the Doctor's, but actually one of his?

A pit formed in his stomach. Moriarty…it would be just like him. Ambitious, flashy, impossibly evil, with no regard for human life…he might as well be a Cyberman himself. How he would have fallen in with such a crowd was another question, but nothing Moriarty ever did really shocked Holmes. The man was capable of anything.

Holmes was brought out of the inner workings of his mind by the sudden quieting of the crowd. Carfax was about to speak. He straightened the lapels of that bottle-green coat one more time and began.

"I stand here today in a replica of a building constructed over one hundred and fifty years ago to showcase the best of what the world had to offer. Today, we are here to do the same, only we have leapt forward in leaps and bounds. Whereas at the Great Exhibitions guests were able to see Brady's daguerrotypes, the Koh-i-noor diamond, and the first-ever public restrooms, we get to bask in the glories of modern industry, such as the fastest Internet connection yet available and the first successful hovercar."

"He's quite eloquent for someone so good-looking," Amy whispered. Rory rolled his eyes. Yet Holmes squinted at the man as he continued his speech. He noticed what his companions could not—the subtle twitches in the suave man's eyelid, and the way his pupils moved from side to side, as though he were looking for something. Or waiting for something. He fingers were holding the edges of the podium much tighter than they should have been—his knuckles were whitening.

"But he's nervous," said Holmes. "Look at his body language. He's very good at controlling it, as someone that confident in his physicality naturally would be. But something has him on edge. And I reckon I can guess."

Amy and Rory followed his gaze offstage…and noticed a glint of silver. Only a moment was the metallic arm within sight. Then it disappeared.

"He's intimidated by the Cybermen. Don't blame him," said Rory.

Backstage two Cybermen stood in the wings, watching Carfax speak. Normally his ego would not allowed such impertinence, but their empty stares were giving him the willies. For a second her thought he had forgotten the rest of his speech.

Meanwhile, the two Doctors were pushing their way through guards and crowds by flashing the psychic paper and in some cases, just pure force of will. 'We have credentials! Let us pass!" Watson shouted, and after a quick glimpse at whatever outrageous lies the psychic paper prepared, the two were naturally let go. The Doctor even managed to grab a cheese sandwich and some custard as they ran by, and slightly grossed out Watson by dipping the former into the latter.

'Not as good as fish custard, but it'll do," the Doctor said with a smack of his lips. "Fish custard?" Watson exclaimed, as they turned a corner. That was proof enough he was from another planet, right there, he thought.

They eventually skidded to a halt in front of the first backstage curtain. The Doctor pushed it aside with a flourish. Behind it were the two Cyberman, laden with the Kensington Expo bags, donated by Louis Vuitton, and laden with awesome gifts—including that cursed earpiece.

"Of course, Carfax Industries own IndustriFax Bluetooth Device is at the front of today's pack. We are so confident that we have created the perfect phone and Internet device that we have donated them to the gift bags for every industry leader in attendance today, and have set up webcams for them to document the experience. We're so sure that they'll love them, and by consequence, the rest of the world will too."

Carfax's teeth flashed with this last pronouncement. "Enjoy the rest of the day. I know I will."

He stepped offstage in a flurry of applause and exclamations from the crowd, including a few paparazzi queries. One had the nerve to holler, "Isn't Ms. Devine's disappearance going to put a damper on the festivities?" Carfax tried to maintain his cool and hide his guilt. He ignored the remark and stepped away…just in time to see the Cyberman mechanically turn to face the two arrivals. Carfax was confused. Who could the skinny nerd in the bow tie and the short ginger possibly be?

The Cyberman didn't take long to figure it out. They scanned the newcomers and said in unison, "You are the Doctor. DELETE!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Close Encounters of Multiple Kinds

Doctor John Watson found himself face to face with a sight vastly more bizarre and frightening than anything he had seen in the sandy wilds of Afghanistan—a pair of angry Cybermen. Well, angry wasn't exactly the right word, as Cybermen were apparently stripped of all emotion, but Watson wasn't in the best position to quibble right now. He looked at the Doctor next to him, who was either a lot less frightened than him or just good at hiding it. He lifted his sonic screwdriver just as the Cybermen took a few deadly stomps towards them.

"Doctor, is this the part where we run?" Watson asked, fists rising at the ready, no that they would do much good against any creature with a metal shell.

"Nah…there'll be plenty of time for that later. Right now I have questions that need to be answered and I will NOT be deleted, do you hear?" His voice rose in volume and grew vastly more demanding. Watson noted that the already tall man seemed to loom up even further when faced with certain danger...similar to his own colleague.

"You are the Doctor. You are the enemy of the Cybermen. You must be deleted." The Cybermen stomped closer, hands at the ready, electricity sparking in anticipation of the most desirable victim of all.

"Hold on now, what's this?" Stepping offstage, Jackson Carfax took a sip from a bottle of Evian and addressed his silvery servants.

"If these men are trespassing backstage for a reason, I want a chance to speak with them before we convert or annihilate them. I want to know how they know what they know, whatever what they know might be."

"It is the Doctor. He is not worthy of conversion. He must be deleted."

Carfax turned to the pair before him. "Which one of you is the Doctor?"

"That would be me. Hello!" The Doctor waved.

Watson coughed and raised one hand. "I'm a Doctor too, actually, just not the Doctor, wanted to point that out…"

Jackson took another sip and waved his hand in dismissal. "I don't care. Cybermen!"

He brandished his bottle of water at them. The Cybermen stepped backwards.

"I have seen what happens to your fizzy little brains when my artisan water gets too close. Disobey me at your peril."

The Doctor had to smother a laugh. This man was supposed to be one of the wiliest, most ruthless businessmen in Britain, and a technological genius…and he was threatening the Cybermen with Evian? Clearly he was unaware as to the gravity of what he was dealing with…or that the Cybermen were playing him for the fool he actually was. Nonetheless, the Cybermen acquiesced and stepped down. Watson relaxed, only slightly—he had learned enough from life during wartime and life in Baker Street that the enemy could strike when you least expected it. He would stay on his toes. The Doctor too remained on his guard; clearly if Cybermen were willing to humor—could you call it that, humor, in regards to a Cyberman—Carfax, then he was even more important than they had thought.

Carfax put an arm around each of them and led them away to his secret dressing room. "Let's discuss the future, gentlemen, and see whether or not the two of you still have one." The Cybermen followed closely behind.

Meanwhile, Amy, Rory, and Sherlock had noted the look on Carfax's face and the determination in which he had strode offstage. This could only mean terrible things for their friends.

"We should go help the Doctor, shouldn't we?" Rory asked Amy. "Well, obviously," she said as she turned to Holmes. "Any ideas?"

"Several. Follow me," and with that, Holmes wormed his way through the crowd around the back of the stage in front of the entrance to the new crystal palace. He strode up to Mary with an immense sense of importance and said, "Excuse me, we're the technicians for Mr. Carfax's servants and we're running late. Where can we find him?"

Mary pointed off through the multitude of exhibits, still empty of people but not for long. The throngs were teeming outside, waiting for the final word to be given. "His dressing room is back there, and he's got another suite filled with plenty of those robot guys."

"Plenty? How many is plenty?" Rory asked. "I don't know, maybe a dozen? I've lost track, they all look and sound the same. It's rather off-putting." Mary shrugged. "A dozen! He's got a dozen!" Rory's voice grew shrill. "How are we supposed to take on a dozen? I mean, work on a dozen. Work. As technicians."

Mary stared at him. "Right. If you'll excuse me, I have my own responsibilities to take care of." With that, she pushed her glasses up her nose and marched away. Amy huffed.

"Someone's a little too full of themselves. To the Cybersuite?"

"Yes. But first, we should gather up some more equipment, to arm ourselves," said Holmes.

'Where are we going to get that?" Rory wondered.

"Look around you, Robin!" Holmes gestured around the arena. "You don't need silly psychic paper to convince people to aid you if you have the right attitude and body language. Walk with your head up. Nod to people as though they should recognize you. Don't avoid eye contact; rather, maintain it until your opposite is forced to look away uncomfortably. They'll be so grateful to get rid of someone who is clearly very important that they'll oblige you anything."

He strode confidently off, weaving his way through the booths and exhibits and swiping various bits and pieces that he deemed necessary to the task at hand. Amy squeezed Rory's shoulder, gave him a reassuring smile, and ran after Holmes. Rory grumbled one last remark:

"I don't think I do. And it's Rory. Rory!"

Back in the dressing room with the broken mirror, the Doctor was letting Carfax know that they knew exactly what he was up to: "Jackson, trust me. You can trust me more than the Cybermen. I assure you, they're using you for something and when they're through with you, they'll convert you or destroy you just like the rest. Just like Marie. You can't let those earpieces be distributed."

Carfax looked at the Doctor and shook his head. "Poor Doctor. I'm afraid that if that's why you're here then you've arrived too late. There are only the extra gift bags. The rest have already been distributed to the honored guests upon their original escort to the VIP area."

The Doctor's face paled. "How long ago was that?"

Carfax examined the watch on his wrist, which looked as though it had bounced right off of the screen of the latest James Bond movie. He gave a classic Bond villain grin to match. "About an hour ago. How many do you think have resisted the charms of the earpiece, Doctor? How many of the world's leading geniuses remain themselves, and how many are now the servants of the Cybermen and myself? How many—"

A fist shot out and knocked Carfax smack on his perfect Roman nose. His blue eyes crossed, then rolled back as he keeled over, unconscious. The Doctor turned openmouthed to John Watson, who has shaking his fist loose.

"Sorry. VIP area?"

"Yes! After you, Doctor!"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Going Rogue

The two Doctors were running through the small rear building housing the dressing rooms and VIP rest areas for the more prominent guests, all of whom would be receiving or already had put in one of Carfax's Cyberconverting Bluetooth devices, known as the IndustriFax Device.

Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes was making quick yet subtle work of the main crystal enclosure, leading Amy and Rory on a stealth mission to steal as many important pieces of tech as possible. Rory was attempting to mimic Holmes' confident swagger in order to get the equipment they needed; however, Amy had found a different technique that worked for her. She simply leaned over the tables, looked the exhibition minders in the eye, and pouted her lip slightly. By doing this it seemed that anyone in the entire complex would be willing to give her anything, including one nervous, pimple-faced young man who not only gave her the long-lasting battery she needed but also plenty of special wires to hook it up to whatever device she needed it for. Needless to say, Rory didn't approve, but he had learned long ago that his feisty young wife would do whatever it took to ensure that they and the Doctor saved the world, and yet would also remain loyal to him.

Rory spied an awkward-looking girl with a greasy blonde ponytail and decided to try a few tricks of his own. He licked his hand, slicked down his hair, and meandered over to her booth, trying to be suave. This did not come easily to him.

"So…radioactivity…how about that?" he asked her. The ponytail girl smacked a piece of gum and looked unimpressed. She said nothing. Rory was confused. This was not how this was supposed to work. He tried again.

"These are spiffy…you're spiffy too…your ponytail is, anyways…" Rory's voice trailed off. This was a bad idea. Fortunately, he was rescued by Holmes, who simply strode over and grabbed the fancy charger he needed. All he did was nod to the girl and she blushed bright red. Rory pondered this mysterious power as he walked away. Rory opened his mouth to say something, then decided it would be better not to, and followed Holmes.

Fortunately for him, Amy had seen none of this. She was scoping out a bathroom stall in the ladies room. The men followed her in and set up camp. Holmes began arranging the materials they had amassed and assembling a gun-like device.

"Is that a gun? The Doctor hates guns," Rory said, his adoration for his hero fading each time the man either upstaged him or forgot his name…both of which happened quite often.

"The Doctor isn't here right now, is he? He's gone, with his special screwdriver and his fancy paper, leaving us to resort to more human methods of survival. I looked this up online. It's a basic stun gun. Shoots, doesn't kill. Your Doctor can't have a problem with that, can he?"

"I think he'll manage," said Amy. "Do I get one?"

"Only one. I'll handle it. I've done this before," said Holmes.

"You've made a stun gun out of found parts and fought your way through a building full of robots?" Amy asked.

"They were drug dealers who were holding the foreign affairs minister's daughter hostage, not robots. Point is, the gun works," Holmes said as he screwed the last bit into place and fired at a cockroach that had skittered into the stall. The bug froze instantly.

"Oh, that is cool. You are so cool, it just isn't even fair," Rory said, unable to conceal his platonic adoration. Amy grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"You're starting to make me a little jealous, Rory Williams," she said, before strutting out after Holmes. Rory thought about this, smiled, and left the bathroom. The only evidence they were ever there was the stunned cockroach.

At their target destination, Jackson Carfax awoke with blurred vision and a pounding head. He pulled himself up on his dressing table and was disappointed to notice how messed up his suave hair had become during the scuffle that had just ensued. While examining himself closely, he heard the familiar ominous creaking footsteps of his servants. He straightened up to see two of them flanking his reflection in the mirror.

"Where is the Doctor?"

Carfax huffed. "I might as well ask you the same question. I know I told you we wanted privacy, but you'd think you'd have been keeping better guard so that he wouldn't be able to escape after his angry little friend punched me in the face!"

"We were overseeing the conversions," they droned. "Where is the Doctor?"

"I don't know!" Carfax exclaimed, "Probably going to stop your silly little conversions! Or at least try! But why even worry? All he has to save him is a pair of fists and a blabbering mouth. What damage could he possibly do?"

"You do not know the Doctor," they droned. And with that they each raised a hand, letting them heavily drop onto Carfax's narrow, trim shoulders.

'What're you doing?" he asked, squirming under their unwavering grip. "What're you doing? Tae your rusty mitts off of—"

He was cut off as he began to scream in pain. The Cyberman pumped him with jolts of electricity until his limp frame fell to the floor.

"Carfax has been deleted," the first said. "We no longer need him." Said the second. "We are converting an army of human geniuses. It is time to bring them to the Cyberking."

"But first, we must find the Doctor."

As it were, Watson and the Doctor were racing down corridors to the VIP room, to find the aforementioned army of geniuses. They were stopped by Mary. After her brush with the three questionable mechanics she had already had her fill of sneaky would-be liars for one day, and was losing patience fast.

"Where do you think you're going?" she bellowed.

The Doctors skidded together to a stop. They actually needed to rest, as both doubled over to catch their breathe. "My hearts are pounding, hold on a minute," the Doctor gasped.

"Your hearts?" Mary said. "I've been fed way too many tall tales by freaks like you two trying to find their way backstage to harass Mr. Carfax. You're coming with me."

Watson was at a loss. This woman was rather attractive, in an angry and geeky sort of way. Not his usual type but still…he couldn't bring himself to punch a woman. While mulling over what physical contact would be proper in his head (and a few very inappropriate ones came to mind), the Doctor whipped out his psychic paper and wiggled it in front of her eyes.

"This says that you're president and VP of the Hatherley Engineering Group. Why aren't you in the VIP room, relaxing with your gift bags?" Mary asked.

"We can't find it. If you could maybe take us there…" Watson cajoled, looking her up and down. Mary was not amused.

"Sure. Anything to get you out of my hair," she grumbled. With that, she marched away down the hall, Watson suppressing an impressed grin.

A moment later, Mary threw open the doors with both hands, trying to retain the upper hand in the situation by using a dramatic flair. She looked—the guests were unimpressed. Though the shorter one kept eying her in a strangely flattering way. Mary shrugged it off and tried to maintain her cool.

"Here we are. VIP area. Don't get into too much trouble in here…" her voice trailed off. Watson and the Doctor thrust their heads around her outstretched arms to see why.

The sight before them was chilling to the bone. The men within the room, all leaders in the most dangerous and important fields of technology, were all wearing IndustriFax earpieces. All of their heads turned in unison, making a strange sound that was altogether unnatural…altogether inhuman. In fact, one could say their actions and movements were almost robotic. Watson gasped and closed the door again. The Doctor used the sonic to make sure it stayed shut.

"They've been converted," he said.

Mary whipped her head around. "Converted to what? Buddhism? Is that why they're so still? Are they meditating? Give me a break," she snapped.

"No…" said the Doctor. "They're all Cybermen. An army of Cybermen with the best human brains money could buy."

"Cybermen? Those are the creepy servants Jackson Carfax brought with him. The robot guys. They aren't robots in there. They're humans!"

A weird hissing noise started coming from the door. Mary looked through the glass panel to see Victor Hatherley, the actual president of the Hatherley Group, using his hand to send electric currents towards the door, slicing through the locking mechanism.

Mary had been through a lot that day. In the world of event planning, she was used to high stress, prima donnas, and the occasional party crashed. One thing she was not used to was a human being who all of a sudden had magical powers. Crack habits, ordering massages from Thai women, bringing twice as many guests as they were allotted seats…yes. Magic, no.

And so, Mary fainted. Watson swooped in like the gentleman he thought he was and caught her.

"What should I do with her?" he asked.

"Does it really matter right now?" asked the Doctor. "Just put her out of the way somewhere…"

Watson was dismayed at the Doctor's lack of concern. "She's innocent! She could die."

The Doctors head whipped around. His eyes were lit with a surprisingly dangerous quality—steely and without humanity. It was the gaze of an angry Time Lord, and Watson did not like being on the receiving end of it.

"All of humanity could be about to die, John Watson. These Cybermen are bent on destroying entire races, bending them to their will, using them to carry out acts of terror and genocide not just throughout planets, but whole galaxies! One human woman is not our highest priority right now. Just put her out of the way!"

Watson understood his point but was still rather put off. He dragged Mary to a corner and propped her up. He then joined the Doctor at the door of the VIP lounge.

"What do we do now?" Watson said.

Holmes threw open the door of Carfax's dressing room and fired a jolt at the security camera, frying the circuits the way he had all the rest in their path. He spun around. No one was to be seen…until Amy looked down at the floor and screamed. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Holmes leaned down and prodded the stiff body of Jackson Carfax.

"Is he dead?" Rory asked.

"Most definitely," said Holmes. Not a single fleck of shock or emotion crossed the detective's face. As Rory had said, he was unbelievably cool…even in the face of death. The three of them stood over the body wondering what to do. Suddenly, there was a banging on the door. The three of them turned in unison—eerily similar to the Cyberconverted executives. Holmes raised his stun gun. The door shook on its hinges once, twice—then fell to the floor with a crash.

Upstairs in the control room, a man sat in the dark, watching the chaos unfold in the various rooms of the Kensington Expo complex. He was flanked by several Cybermen who stood silently in the shadows, watching the same monitors he did, waiting for him to pronounce any command he wished them to carry out. The two Cybermen who had just dispatched Carfax entered.

"I saw how you took care of Carfax. Lovely work," the man purred. "However, can you do me one small favor?"

"For the Cyberking? Anything," they said.

"Bring me the Doctor."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: In the Hall of the Cyberking

The door to the now-deceased Carfax's room fell to the floor. As the dust cleared, Amy opened her mouth to scream. However, she quickly stopped when she noticed that it was not a barrage of Cybermen breaking down the door, but a group of event coordinators, led by the incorrigible Mary Morstan, armed with a walkie-talkie and a broom.

"Where are those ridiculous Doctors? I have a bone to pick with them!"

Sherlock Holmes lowered his stun gun, but only slightly—this woman appeared quite agitated. Mary took a moment and recognized the trio.

"Oh, you people again. Who are you, really? Because if you've come here to get rid of those—those things—you're doing a rubbish job!"

Mary's voice rose to fever pitch. Her subordinates stood behind her in the weirdest, geekiest looking battle formation ever seen in London. Amy had to suppress a smile at such a motley crew, even in these extremely dire circumstances.

"We're doing our best. Where did you last see John and the Doctor?"

"Let's see, I was looking in the door of the VIP room, saw some lasers being fired from Victor Hatherley's hands, fainted—and then woke up in the corner where they left me."

Amy bit her lip to stop herself laughing more. If there were Cybermen afoot, the Doctor was really not going to bother with one fainting woman. He was not one for chivalry.

"Well, we'd like to find our friends. And we'd like to solve this. If you're willing to help, I have a few favors to ask of you," Holmes said.

"What might those be?" asked Mary.

He brandished his gun and fired at one of her cohorts. He fell to the ground with a thump.

Mary leapt towards him with the broom but was restrained by Rory, who felt the need to step up and protect his hero, whether he actually needed it or not.

"You killed him!" she yelled.

"No. I merely stunned him. It's a useful weapon that could stop the humans-turned-Cybermen in their tracks, and fry the circuits of the…less fleshy ones. We need to make more. And for that, we need you."

Mary narrowed her eyes. "Explain, please. Starting with the obvious—what the hell is a Cyberman?"

The Doctor was pacing back and forth through the halls, Watson watching with his arms crossed. Just as he opened his mouth to ask the Doctor, yet again, what the next plan was, he heard that all too ominous creaking sound.

"Doctor!" Watson yelled. Yet it was too late. The Cyberman grabbed Watson by the shoulder and jolted him with electricity. He gave a shudder and fell limp to the ground.

"John!" The Doctor screamed, right before the Cyberman gripped his shoulders and dragged him away.

A few moments later, the Cyberman threw the Doctor on the floor in the shadowy security room. The Doctor felt the pain shoot through his ancient limbs and for the first time, didn't feel nearly as young as he looked. He craned his neck upwards and squinted through the gloom.

"Aw, come on, couldn't you treat a guest with a little more respect? Give me one of your VIP bags even…one of those earpieces?"

"Oh, shut up," snapped the man in the dark. He spun around in his chair and made what he imagined was a menacing face…though the Doctor couldn't see it in the dark. However, his expression quickly melted into one of dismay.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm the Doctor. Who the hell are you?"

"You're not the Doctor," the man sneered.

"Yes, I am. The one and only. Well, technically the eleventh. Eleventh face, that is. Same man."

"Shut up. Where's Doctor Watson?"

The Doctor peered at him quizzically. "Doctor Watson? John Watson? He's wherever your Cyberman left him when they dragged me away."

The man in the chair leaned forward, his face finally entering the narrow shaft of light from the tiny security window. The face was human…well, mostly human. One half had been replaced with interlocking metallic plates and a golden eye even more penetrating than his remaining human one. The metal plating extended down his body, under the collar of his neat suit, and ended in a beautifully designed Cyberarm, which clenched the arm of the chair so tightly that it nearly crumbled into dust.

"Do you know who I am, Doctor?" He hissed.

"Well, no. I already asked you who you were and you didn't answer. Bit rude, for an interrogator not to even establish his identity before the interrogation had begun—"

"Shut up! I asked you one question, not five. You're just as much of a showoff as Sherlock Holmes. Which explains why you were running around with his little medical minion. Which also means that you can probably tell me where Sherlock Holmes is…can't you?"

"I don't know where Sherlock Holmes is. Why do you need to know? And why have you given yourself a Cyberface? Why are there Cybermen everywhere? What is going on?"

The Cyberking laughed wickedly. "I am James Moriarty. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson narrowly escaped my clutches via a terrible explosion that nearly killed me. Fortunately, the Cybermen offered me a solution to my dilemma."

"They made you a Cyberking? An actual king, not just a giant dreadnought-class ship?"

'Well, yes. Why would I be a…a ship?"

"Nevermind. How did you meet the Cybermen? Where did they come from?"

Moriarty laughed. "Do you really think I'm going to outline my entire plan to you before I've even finished carrying it out? I have almost as big of an ego as Sherlock, but he has me beat there. He'd have already posted his dumb plan online and given me plenty of time to thwart it. No, I think you'll be answering my questions. Why do you know so much about my friends here?"

"Oh, me and the Cybermen have a similar relationship that you and old Sherlock do."

"Mortal enemies. Quite right. But I was under the impression that I was the only human aware of the powers of the Cybermen."

"Well, that's not strictly true. I have a few friends."

Those friends were currently camped out in the VIP bathroom, since they had a feeling that none of the Cyber-CEOs would need it anytime soon. Here, they sat on the ground and under Holmes' expert supervision, began to assemble stun guns. Mary's events crew was there too. They had managed to obtain all of the materials that Holmes needed and provided extra firepower. Together, the group numbered about a dozen, which made their numbers about equal with the Cybermen—and that wasn't counting the group of converted humans. It was an uneven fight, to be sure, but Amy and Rory had been in such fights before, and the Doctor had always pulled through somehow. Yet where was he?

"Where do you think the Doctor's gone to?" Rory asked Amy.

"He's probably off confusing some bad guys and sonic-ing some robots. The usual."

"Do you think he's alright?"

Amy turned to Rory in dismay. "He's the Doctor. What do you think?"

Rory thought about this for a moment. "Yeah, I'm sure he's managing."

Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes was helping Mary put together her gun. She looked at him, confused.

"So you're Sherlock Holmes? The famous consulting detective? With the blog and everything?"

"The very same," Holmes said with nary a glance in her direction, so focused he was on the work at hand.

"And one of those doctors from earlier is Doctor John Watson? But which one?"

"The short one," Holmes said bluntly as he squinted at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and fired a neat jolt into his own reflection's forehead. The mirror cracked and several pieces fell into the sink.

"I thought you lot were just a detective and a physician. Not mercenaries."

"John is a former soldier, who put himself in the line of fire numerous times in Afghanistan, and my line of work requires me to acquire various…skills," Holmes said. "We wouldn't be alive today if we didn't take drastic measures now and then."

Amy took that moment to interrupt. "The Doctor would say you were wrong. He has defeated whole armies armed with nothing but his screwdriver and his mind."

Holmes looked at her. "Yes, well, some of us are merely human."

"Indeed," snorted Amy.

Rory tapped her on the shoulder. "We are human as well, in case you've forgotten." Amy swatted his hand away, before giving him a hug out of both affection and guilt.

Holmes handed the weapon to Mary. She examined it, not used to having anything heavier than a clipboard in her hands. "So, this John Watson…is he single?"

During all of this excitement poor John Watson was passed out on the floor. When he finally recovered from the electric shock and came to, he had a splitting headache from his fall to the ground. He lurched for the nearest trashcan and threw up. 

"Concussed. How wonderful," he sighed as he wiped his mouth. After regaining steadiness by gripping the sides of the can for a few moments, and being grateful that the rather cranky and attractive woman—was her name Mary?—hadn't witnessed this humiliation. However, He knew the exact way to redeem himself. He had to find the Doctor and save him from the Cybermen. He didn't know where they had taken him, or how to put up a good enough fight, but he would save the Doctor if it was the last thing he ever did.

The Doctor was very good at a lot of things. One of these was talking. So he kept rambling on, both to annoy and get information out of Moriarty. One thing was for certain: this man was not Cyberking. He bore more of a resemblance to Cyberslaves, with his part-human and part-metal physique. The Doctor also recalled that when the Cybermen were done with Cyberslaves, they simply deleted them. While Moriarty was clearly the worst kind of human—and his animosity with Sherlock Holmes seemed to confirm this—the Doctor didn't want to simply leave him to such a ghastly fate. For one, that would still leave a ton of Cyber-CEOs running all over London, and soon, the world. For another, he was still a human life, and…"It just wouldn't be very nice of me would it?" the Doctor mused to himself.

"What did you say?" Moriarty snapped.

"Nothing, Jim—can I call you Jim?" The Doctor flashed a strained smile at him and struggled to pull himself into a more comfortable sitting position against the table leg he was handcuffed to. After a search, Moriarty had confiscated his psychic paper and the sonic screwdriver, and was currently analyzing them in an effort to discover their secrets. The Doctor was confident that he wouldn't succeed.

"So, Jim, how did the Cybermen find you again? You told me, but I forgot."

"I didn't tell you anything of the kind!" Moriarty growled and brandished his Cyberarm. The Doctor eyed it but didn't show any visible fear. After all, he had faced down entire empires. One half-Cyberman criminal was nothing to him. However, this irked Moriarty. Just as he was about to give the Doctor a taste of some sweet electricity,to show him why he should be more scared of the machine-man, a Cyberman lurched into the room.

"Sherlock Holmes is here," the Cyberman said.

"I know that. Where is he?" Moriarty asked, tension rising in his voice.

"He has an army. He is deleting Cybermen," the Cyberman intoned, before falling face-first to the ground with a sizzling metal hole in the back of its shiny skull.


End file.
